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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years ago

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The Lady in White: UtivichxFem!Reader

Happy Halloween guys! :))) Here's a lil spooky basterds fic for y'all

TW: Gore/blood/animal attacks/ghost stories

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

******************************* 'Baba Yaga brodit no lesu dazhe zdes...' "Baba Yaga wanders the forest, even here."

Aldo narrowed his eyes as he stood over a heavily wounded Soviet spy with weary eyes and a frightened whisper. The basterds had been hunting a patrol, and just when they were close, they heard blood curdling screams. All they found was this Soviet spy, tortured half to death...who could only speak Russian, German, and French. "What's he sayin' Wicki?" The spy was loosing blood, but seemed to speak with a sly smirk, repeating it over, 'Baba Yaga brodit no lesu dazhe zdes...' Wicki shrugged, "I don't know he's saying it in Russian now." Hugo hovered over the wounded man, "Deutsch sprechen?" "You speak German?" The agent's eyes darted, and looked directly at Hugo, speaking with as much conviction as a half-dead man could, "Baba Yaga wandert auch hier durch den Wald." Aldo nodded, his hands at his hips, "That. What's that mean?" Wicki turned back, "He's saying Baba Yaga wanders in the woods, even here." Donny narrowed his eyes, "Who, or what the fuck is Baba Yaga?" Hugo grunted, "Slavic myth. A witch." Smitty, who had just returned with a member of the resistance the basterds were friends with, managed to sputter, "W...witch?" "It's only a myth. Besides, he's lost a lot of blood. He's delirious." Wicki chuckled, though he looked back at the agent, "Die Franzosen werden sich um Sie kümmern." 'The French will take care of you.' The day went on as usual. Evening came, and the basterds sat around a fire, eating some Hershey bars as the wind tussled the red leaves of autumn. "So... suppose the patrol did see something out in the woods, and they left the commie behind..." Smitty looked around, hoping for some reassurance. "There's nothing in the goddamn woods, Uti." Hirschberg rolled his eyes, though he held his breath, and turned to the others, "Right?"

Wicki, who loved a good scare, chuckled and shrugged, "I don't know, kid. The Soviet said somethin' about 'dama v belom'. Know what that is?"

They shook their heads. "Lady in white." He smirked, and Hugo muttered, with a slight nod, "Haus Ausel..." referring to an old German myth about a ghostly lady in white. Wicki chuckled, but shook his head dismissively. "He was delirious. There's no such thing as ghosts." "But...we heard the screams. Krauts wouldn't have just left a high stakes prize like a Soviety spy behind like that." Donny shrugged, grumbling with a mouth full of chococlate, "So they saw a wolf or something." Smitty shook his head, "When have you ever seen a fucking wolf around here?" "Well.....fucken..." Donny scrunched up his nose in thought for a moment, then muttered"...just eat some hersheys damn it." Wicki smirked a little, "You afraid of a ghost story, Utivich?" "Wh....no...."

Aldo smirked, catching on, "Well, you ain't been scared till you seen the ghost of Sadie Baker." "Who the hell is that?" Omar rolled his eyes, though...he did love a good ghost story. "Well ain't you a lucky man," Aldo cleared his throat, snorting some tobacco, and then facing the boys, about to make them 'unlucky,' and telling them about Sadie Baker. Omar laughed, "Get the hell outta here." "You got a better one?" Aldo leaned back against a tree with a dismissive smirk, and Omar shrugged, "Better one? Here's a good one: Ghosts aren't real."

Hirschberg shrugged, "Maybe not...but you ever hear of the Jersey Devil?" Omar rolled his eyes, "Oh again with this shit? There is no Jersey Devil!" Donny frowned a little, "You ever hear about somethin' called the wendigo? Now...I'm not sayin' it's real...but that is some scary shit...if you believe in those things.... Which I don't." The night went on, the leaves rattled in the breeze, the yellow moon rose. There was wild screaming in the distance the likes of which they had only heard in chilling radio shows or horror pictures. Wicki and Hugo smirked seeing Smitty jump and look around nervously with every snapping twig and falling lead. They started joking around about the supposed 'lady in white,'. The only one who seemed fully unfazed was Aldo. When asked why, he replied simply, "Down south everything's either built on an Indian burial ground or on a civil war battlefield. This ain't nothin'." Though Utivich was the only visibly frightened basterd, the others were beginning to wonder about the howling in the distance. "Maybe there is a wolf..." "So that explains the screaming?" "If you saw a wolf you wouldn't scream?" "Not like that." Omar smirked, "Hey...isn't there a cemetery around here? Between that last village and the forest?" Smitty narrowed his eyes in suspicion, "You're setting me up, aren't you?" "You think I'd make all this up to get to you? I have other things to do." Omar rolled his eyes, and Hirschberg sighed, "Cemetery's down that way. Southeast." They heard another bone chilling scream, followed by an echoing howl. "It's...uh....just the wind." Hirschberg cleared his throat, crossed his arms, trying to look unbothered. "Hell of a wind," Donny mumbled as he looked up and around. Omar was smirking, poking around as he walked away from the group, "Aldo?" "Yeah?" "Can we go check it out?" Aldo sighed, having just taken off his boots for the night. "Take two of the boys with ya. Come back in an hour. We got a long day ahead of us, and ain't no ghoul out there gon' help us scalp nazis. Got it?" Omar nodded, "Got it. Come on." He grabbed Hirschberg and Utivich. Hirschberg seemed game, being bored out of his mind and not quite tired enough to get to sleep yet. Utivich....well... he stammered "Oh no. No fucking way. Take....take literally anyone but me. Take Hugo or-" Hugo scowled. "Or maybe not....How about Wicki?" Wicki was already laying down, his arms crossed behind his head, and his coat draped over his upper body. He sighed, half yawning, half disinterested, and one hundred percent too old for this shit. "Not tonight, boychik."

"But...but..." Utivich turned to Donny, panic seeping through his wide eyes, "Donny?" Donny was sharpening his knife, "You heard Aldo. We got a big day tomorrow, kid" He smirked, not just because of the big mission, but because he got a kick out of giving Utivich a good scare. Which wasn't very hard to do. "Come on, we're just checking it out." Omar nudged Smitty, who sighed as he dropped his head and followed along. About thirty minutes in, he asked "Are you sure you know where we're going?" Omar turned around, "Look." he sighed, "Ghosts aren't real. You know that." "Yeah but...." "For the last time, Uti, there is no wolf," Hirschberg chuckled and patted Utivich on the back as they kept walking. Omar asked, "What are you scared of anyway? If anyone's out there, they should be scared of us." Smitty chuckled a little, "I guess you're right." "Atta boy, now-" They reached the last few trees, and could see the looming, ancient gates, and the silhouettes of crooked and broken tombs just beyond it beneath the silver moonlight. And just as it came into view, they heard a shrill, guttural scream of a man. "It's uh...coming from the cemetery..." Hrischberg stalled for a moment, and Omar rolled his eyes, pulling them both behind him. "Come on." "You know...in the pictures, it's always one dumbass that gets everyone killed." Omar shook his head with a smirk, "Yeah, well we ain't in the pictures, Hirschberg." Omar pushed open the rusting, dusty, forgotten gates, and stepped in. "Footprints. Ghosts don't leave footprints." He turned around, "And no, a dybbuk wouldn't either." Hirschberg narrowed his eyes, "How do you know..." "We don't have time for this! I'm just saying that w-" There was another scream. "This way..." He seemed a little more hesitant, but still, made his way toward the screams, towing along the other two basterds. The cemetery seemed to go on for miles and miles, almost as if it were endless. "See? Nothing. I told y-" Omar's eyes went wide as he wobbled at the edge of an open grave, "WHOA-" Hirschberg grabbed onto Omar's arms and pulled him to safety. "Alright. That's it, asshole. Let's go home." "Aww you scared of a little wind?" "No." He clenched his jaw, "I just...it don't seem too respectful to be stompin' around these graves." Utivich nodded hastily, "Y-yeah...r...respectful..." "You coulda gotten hurt, Omar. Let's go." Omar sighed, "Just a few more minutes. I wanna see if-" They heard a low, ghastly groan, "Hilfe..." it almost seemed to be begging for mercy. Begging for death itself, "Hilfe!" 'help...' It was German. Omar then peered over the ditch he nearly fell into....and realized it was far deeper than six feet. And it was far from empty. There was a pile of men, bloodied, seeming as if they'd been gutted and torn apart by a wild animal. "Hilfe...." 'Help...' Omar's eyes shot wide, his heart stopped, and his blood went ice cold when he saw one of the bodies reach up with a shaking, bloody, mangled hand, eyes looking directly into Omar's. Hirschberg then peered over, "Holy shit. It's a nazi!" He laughed, putting his hands at his hips as he looked on at the bloody masterpiece. "I-it is?" Utivich felt significantly less scared, as he looked between his friends' shoulders, and saw just that. An endless pile of dead nazis in a seemingly bottomless pit. "It is!" He smiled, though he was still a little uneasy with the idea of being in a cemetery in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. Hirschberg kicked some dirt in, "Wonder what happened." "Who cares." Omar crouched down, wondering what to do next. Killing the nazi was too much mercy...leaving him be meant a small chance that he'd survive and tell someone he saw the basterds. Hirschberg seemed to read his mind. He called out, "English?" The nazi sobbed, "Ja...Yes!" "What happened?" He sputtered, blood trailing out of his mouth, his eyes shifting back and forth as he struggled for a breath of air long enough to speak. "W-woman...." He looked with blank eyes remained unblinking and unresponsivein fear, gasping for breath, "W-white...white dress..." he gulped, "Wolf....attacked..." His mangled arm wrapped around his sliced abdomen. Omar looked back at the other two basterds, "Ok...so he's delirious." "Omar, I don't think-" Smitty peered over, "Are you delirious?" Hirschberg rolled his eyes. "Hey." Omar threw a rock into the pit, but the nazi didn't answer. His wide, yellow eyes glazed over. His mouth dropped open as final streams of blood poured out. His arms fell to the sides. His organs spilled out. "....A wolf could do that..." Hirschberg pointed at the evisceration with a shrug. "Let's go." "Don't you wanna know how the bodies got here? I mean-" Omar loved a good mystery. "Why would a wolf drag bodies to a grave? A spirit can't pull bodies into a ditch. A spirit wouldn't care if all the evidence was found! Someone's gotta be out there." "Or....s-something...." Smitty's hands were shaking as he looked around. Omar rolled his eyes, "For the last time, there is no such thing as ghosts." Hirschberg pushed Omar, "Who cares. It's late. It's way past the hour that Aldo gave us. Leave well enough alone."

"You too, Hirschberg?" "What!" Hirschberg was visibily irritated, and uneasy, mostly because of the pungent smell. He didn't care about the nazis...he cared about being in the middle of a graveyard in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, with the possibility of a wild animal attacking. "You're scared too." Omar grinned smugly. "I'm scared of Aldo knowing we stayed out here for more than an hour on purpose. Sure. Come on, kid." He pulled Smitty along, and Omar sighed, "Fine. Fine, lets go." The three wandered back through the gates in silence, not even commenting on what they found. "Umm...Omar?" Omar sighed in annoyance, "What, Smitty?" "Do you know where we are?" He slowed down, beginning to realize they had been walking for a lot longer than when they left camp. He looked around, suddenly not recognizing anything despite having known this side of the forest like the back of his hand. "Uh..." He practically turned in a circle, squinting, trying to make something out of the dark, vast nothing among the dense trees. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" Hirschberg groaned, more annoyed than scared, as he sunk down on the ground, catching his breath. "What? We can't be that far!" Omar stepped a little further into the woods. "I...think we should stay here till morning." "Oh is someone getting scared?" Omar smirked a little as he glanced back at Smitty. "This isn't fucking funny, Omar. We're lost!" Hirschberg crossed his arms, and Smitty said, "Besides...even if there's nothing out here, it's fucking cold." "Then let's keep moving." Smitty shook his head, "No."

Hirschberg knew Omar wouldn't stop.. As much as he hated the idea, he couldn't let Omar go on his own. "Fine." Smitty definitely couldn't handle being alone, so he quickly followed. After what seemed like a thousand years, Omar stopped to catch his breath, finally conceding, "Ok...so we're lost." "Fucking knew it." Smitty looked out into the darkness, whispering under his breath, "lost..." Omar and Hirschberg stood beside each other, looking up at the towering trees.Suddenly, they both felt a heavy, iron grip grab at their shoulders, and pull them back. Both of them screamed at the top of their lungs. "What part of 'one hour' and 'big fucken day tomorrow' did you not fucken understand?!" Their hearts eased, and the color came back to their cheeks when they turned and saw it had been Donny who snuck up on them. "Oh fuck...." Omar rested his hand over his racing heart, "Ok..." he took a deep breath, "Ok..." Donny saw how pale they were. Smitty suddenly hugged him. He'd always been like a younger brother to Donny, though Donny found the hug odd as it seemingly came out of the blue. "You uh...you alright, kid?" Smitty looked up at him, and said about a million words in half a minute, none of which were understood by Donny. "I'll take that as a no?" Donny then glared at Omar and Hirschberg ,"What'd you do to the kid?" Donny knew it was a sort of favorite past time among the basterds to scare Smitty, but this seemed to have gone too far. "Nothing!" Before Donny could respond, they heard a howling sound. It wasn't the wind because there was no wind. And it wasn't a distant figment of their imagination. They all heard it....and it was close. "Can we please get back to camp for the love of- They heard snarling and growling as if they were surrounded by a single creature. The four basterds stood back to back, keeping their eyes ahead of them. A pair of glowing, pale, yellow eyes appeared in the underbrush. "oh shit..." Donny's heart skipped as he fumbled with his gun, trying to load it. Just before he could, they all heard a distant, bubbly, almost innocent laugh. Smitty's hands shook almost as violently as his voice when he raised his finger, pointing at something behind the wolf's eyes, "Wh-what the fuck is that!" It was a white silhouette, barely within sight.

He shut his eyes, and as if in response, there was a whistle. The snarling stopped, and was instead replaced with a whine, and the sound of retreating paws. The figure was gone, along with the glowing eyes. Donny still had his gun aimed at the now vacant forest. He didn't dare look away yet. He did ask one thing. "You...you wanna run that story by me again, Smitty?" ***** Aldo didn't believe a word of it. Neither did Wicki, or Hugo. After their mission, they went back to the cemetery with the younger basterds. Aldo joked as they stepped through the gates, "Whatever it is, it's making our jobs a hell of a lot easier." "There." Omar pointed to. The rest of the basterds huddled around it....a patch of dirt... "I swear it was right here." Hirschberg and Smitty looked on in shock. There was dirt where there were bodies the night before. Wicki shrugged, "You dragged us all the way out here...for an unmarked grave?" Hirschberg picked up a handful of soil, letting it sift through his fingers, "Why is it so fresh?" Smitty nodded, "Yeah...it looks like it was just dug." Hugo grunted "Maybe because we're in a cemetery." Donny shook his head, "No. We saw something." He was so adamant, it made Aldo pause for a moment. Donny had never lied to him before, why would he now? "Alright." Just as the basterds were beginning to push dirt aside, they heard an old, creaking voice that nearly stopped the hearts of the younger basterds. " Puis-je vous aider?" 'Can I help you?' Omar, Smitty, and Hirschberg immediately held on to each other. Aldo rolled his eyes. It was an old man in worker's clothes, and was presumably the graveyard's care taker. The old man repeated again, "Puis-je vous aider?" In broken French, Wicki and Hugo pieced together a story: The kids heard a ghost story in town, and they'd all leave and stop bothering him. Instead, the caretaker invited them all to his house, seeing as though they might be hungry. Smitty shook his head, "Creepy old man in a creepy cemetery with a creepier house..." Aldo, being a southerner, and therefore literate in the art of hospitality, knew it was rude to say no. "Just cause he's old, and we're surrounded by dead people don't mean you get to be rude. Ya did break into the man's property, after all." And with that, the basterds followed the old man through the cemetery to another gate, newer...and less creaky, behind which there was an open space, and a small cottage, with a fresh coat of paint in whatever spots weren't covered with bright bougainvillea. It seemed so out of place, so charming, almost enchanted. It didn't seem to belong there, like an oasis in the middle of a barren desert, but boy was it a sight for sore eyes for the tired basterds The old man apologized, as all he had to offer the brave basterds was some stale bread and water. Rations had been cut in half in the village. He sighed with a smile, though. "She'll be home any minute with more." Wicki asked, "She? " The heavy wooden door opened with a slight creak, and in appeared a figure in a deep green dress, with a basket, "Je suis de retour, papa!" you announced your return, and just as you stepped in, you spotted the crowd of strangers. "Visiteurs?" 'Visitors' you asked, seeming a little uneasy, unable to identify their allegiance. 'Soldats américains,' He explained with a hearty laugh, "american soldiers" with pure joy in his eyes and all the hope an old man could have. Wicki began to explain, "Well..." Hugo waved it off dismissively. Your dad explained that the younger basterds had heard some scary story around the town, and had come by to investigate. You laughed, though nervously...it sounded familiar to at least one Basterd. Smitty mumbled, "It's you..." Donny instantly caught on. He nudged Smitty, "Shut up." Aldo introduced himself, and each of his basterds to you. You nodded with a simple innocent smile, and introduced yourself, as shortly as possible, "Y/n." Aldo nodded, "Pleased to meet you, Y/n..." He turned to Smitty, "Utivich, why don't you go on and help Y/n." "I....ok..." You forced a polite smile to keep up appearances, and he followed you into the kitchen to put away what you'd brought. You were both quiet for a moment, though at one moment, you both looked at each other. You spoke at the same time saying, "I know who you are." You both raised your eyebrows, stepping back in shock, and again on the same beat, quipped, "No you don't!" "Quit it!" You put the tea kettle on, and arranged some cakes you'd brought into a tray, remarking, "You're a basterd." He raised his eyebrow with a smirk, as he leaned against a cupboard, "And you're a ghost." You rolled your eyes, "Really?" You tapped on your left forearm, "I think I know a dead person when I see one, soldier boy. And you should, too." He was quiet as you turned around to pour the boiling water into cups. You sighed reluctantly, "Sorry....that was mean," You sighed sighed again, "Things have been so..." He nodded, having seen the decimated, occupied village himself not too long ago. "I know everything." You looked at him, "You know nothing of hell." You stepped outside through the back door, into a peaceful meadow, seeming even more out of place than the cottage itself, and he followed, "I saw you." "I don't know what you're talking about." "The lady in white bullshit everyone's talking about. Killer wolf. Unmarked grave with a stack of dead nazis in it? I-" You turned around, "Do you see me wearing white? Don't you see endless graves around here? And killer wolf? Here? That's absolutely ridicu-" You both heard a whining.... You shut your eyes, and sighed, and muttered through gritted teeth, "Pais maintenant, Brouillard..." 'Not now, Brouillard...' Smitty saw a greyish-white wolf standing by your side, "No wolf, huh?" "He's not a wolf," you crossed your arms defensively. Smitty looked at you, absolutely puzzled for a moment, and you muttered, giving up. "He's a wolf-dog." "So it was you." "You're lucky you weren't here a few nights too soon, or Brouillard would've howled, and papa would have shot you down." "Your dad? That sweet little old man?" You chuckled with an understanding smile, "It doesn't seem like it, but he takes his job real serious. And well... last night of course you know Brouillard wasn't here to warn him about your little...uh...escapade... We had our hands full." "Does he know?" Smitty spoke softly now, looking at you with wide eyes. "No. And..." You smirked a little, "Let's keep it that way." He nodded, and you stepped back inside, reaching for the tray with cakes as he took the tray with tea, "Wait..." You glanced back, "Yes, private?" "Why?" "Why?"

"I mean...thank you for the help and all, but...why you?" You sighed, putting the tray back down on the counter. "Let me show you something..." You pulled him back outside, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw the wolf again. Brouillard trotted up and rubbed his head on Smitty's leg, as you laughed, "Go ahead." Smitty smiled, and patted Brouillard on the head, commenting, "Your laugh is a lot less ominous now....I mean...I...uh..." You laughed again, taking no offense, as you reached for the young soldier's arm, "Come on." You climbed up a trellis hidden by the vines, and sturdy enough to hold you. You popped into the second floor, and peeked over the window, "You won't fall, I promise!" Smitty nodded, trusting you for reasons he'd figure some day. You helped him in, and he looked around, immediately blushing realizing it was your bedroom. "Ummm..." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, and chuckled, "No one's going to come up. It's the only room up here." You still peeked into the hallway and half down the stairs before slowly shutting the door, and then the window, and closing the curtains. "Y/n....I hate to say this...but I-I think y-you, this is a misunderstanding! I-I don't want to- I mean you're gorgous but. Fuck! I mean-" You opened a dresser, produced a long, lovely, lace and pearl dress, and laid it over the bed. He stopped stammering, and was more intrigued than embarrassed now. He spotted the ragged, torn bottom, with leaves and twigs etched into the lace. "It's a wedding dress." He looked up at you with a sly smirk, "Impressive...Nice disguise." "It was my wedding dress." You sighed, as your fingertips brushed over pearl buttons. Smitty caught his breath, knowing there were a million things that could have led to this: Number one: Widowed by the war But he was wrong... And when he heard the truth he wished he had been right. "No." You smiled a little, "I was happy here. We all were. Then the nazis came." You held the dress up, "One of them, a sergeant... He saw me, and demanded I marry him, or he'd never stop terrorizing the town." "Y/n..." He shook his head, heart broken by the extent that war could go. "The night before the wedding," You turned to him, with the glint of a grin hidden behind your eyes as they wandered over the lace, "He was in the pub, and I knew it. I knew where he'd be. I knew where he would go. And..well, people here are very superstitious. Everyone knows these old myths. Especially in small, isolated places like this. So, naturally, if a...say....vengeful spirit appeared when the town was disturbed, no villager would really say it was fake. They wouldn't dare." "You killed him?" Smitty was grinning a little, as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Me?" You smirked, pleating the white dress against your chest, tracing the details with your finger, "I simply lured him into the forest." "You?" "Well," You shrugged, "You know what they say. It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding." His jaw dropped, both in awe and in shock. "Now, it looked complicated, but Brouillard is a watch-dog...wolf-dog. Very protective. But, it's also not uncommon to spot wolves around here every few years. So naturally, have him howl around a little for a week or so before the deed, and people think it's just one of those wild lone wolves wandering in the woods. So...when a nazi turned up mauled in the woods, well, c'est la vie." "It was that easy?" "Easy?" You scoffed, "It was messy. But...there was no blame. Oh, no. Just what a tragedy before a wedding. Killed by a wolf, well, no one's to blame but his drunken self... Now, when his mates refused to leave town, a little more luring and a few more unpredictable wolf attacks meant the town was free. Well..." "Till more nazis showed up?" "Well...the people seem to understand that wandering the forest late at night might not be the best idea. Naturally the new nazis always want to be the one to solve the mystery of their missing soldiers, they want to get a prize.... So the nazis have no problem ending up at say, the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, Brouillard is a lone wolf. He can't get to each and every one of them so quickly, so, a few have gotten away having spotted a 'lady in white,' But, as of last night, the town is free of nazis. And when the next patrol arrives, I'll be here, waiting." You sighed, placing the dress back into the dresser. "I never would've....This..This is fucking amazing! How have you not been caught?" "The last place anyone would look for a dead body is in a graveyard," you smirked as you sat by him. "You're fucking brilliant..." "Well...I don't know if I'd say 'brilliant,' but...." You stammered a little, tilting your head down, though you now shyly glanced up. You opened the curtains and the window, and stood there for a while. You felt him standing by you. You both looked out at the endless graves, and he asked, "Do you ever feel scared by that?" "Scared?" You shook your head, though your eyes didn't part from the cemetery bathed in the falling red light of sunset. "I think it's peaceful...Though, maybe a little lonely at times." Your shy glance met his timid eyes, and you both smiled softly. In only a moment, you both began leaning in for a kiss, before sneaking back down to the garden, and back to the kitchen.

**** The basterds were walking back to their camp out in the woods, and Donny smirked, "So, Uti...." "What? Yeah?" Utivich snapped out of a trance where he was smiling dreamily at nothing. Donny raised his voice up a few pitches, "YoUr LaUgH is LesS ominous..." "Fuck. You." Utivich blushed as the basterds cackled, and Aldo sighed with a smile, "So? What'd she say?" Utivich sighed and explained the whole story. Aldo nodded, "Well...I'll be damned." Omar grinned, "Ha! No ghost." Hirschberg nodded, "No...but that's one hell of a girl..."

For as long as the basterds hid out in that part of the woods, a year or so, Smitty snuck off alone into the woods late at night, no longer scared of howls or shadows. Where he went....well it didn't take a genius to figure it out. All it took was a minute of bravery to run through the graveyard, luck to not trip over any crooked tombs, and a good grip to climb up to your open window. When the inevitable day came for the basterds to move on, Smitty went back into the woods one last time. This time, he didn't run through the cemetery. He took his time... He'd take his time for once. He walked around to the back of the small cottage that didn't seem to belong, and found a dim, orange glow in the second story. He climbed up carefully after petting Brouillard once more, and bribing him with some dried meat so he wouldn't blow his cover with whines. You heard the familiar shuffling and rustling. You smiled, as you met him with an open window, and a kiss. He couldn't stay much longer, though you knew the day would come. So when the night was over, the dark blue sky began to give way to a new day and mission, he was off to a town in the other side of occupied France called Nadine, about thirty kilometres from Paris, to meet a British contact. Smitty said goodbye to you... But not before swearing he'd come back some day, when the war was over. You watched, as you sat by the window, as the basterd disappeared beyond the forest, as the moon faded and the sun rose. You smiled softly, knowing he'd be back. And, you'd heard that patrols in the area would be discontinued until an investigation gave an answer as to what lurked in the woods... So, as you wondered about the end of the war, you put the dress away with a soft, and relieved smile. You knew he'd be back...and when he was, you knew just what to do. Maybe the dress needed some mending....maybe a new one was in order... But, he'd be back. And when he was, you'd leave the window open and the candle on just for him.

#smithson utivich #Smitty #smithson utivich x reader #Inglourious Basterds #inglourious basterds imagine #Omar Ulmer #aldo raine #aldo the apache #donny-donowitz #Donny Donowitz #hugo stiglitz #Wilhelm Wicki #gerold hirschberg

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